I've been visiting Saltburn-by-the-Sea all my life. It's a town on the coast just down the road from here, easily reached by car, bus or train so an ideal destination for day trips. When I was in my teens, my parents bought a caravan there so that me and my friends had somewhere to hang out at weekends and holidays, and stays became longer. I remember four girls pretending to be French, reading poetry aloud till daybreak, beach parties, lost caravan keys and my poor dad being hauled before some complaints committee as a result. Happy days.
Last weekend, when the Girlie and her mister were home, we decided to spend the afternoon in Saltburn and caught the tail end of the monthly market, managing to buy garlic, shortbread (rhubarb and custard and ginger flavours) and a scented geranium before the stallholders packed up. There's a very good charity shop across the road from the deli we lunched in. I resisted a box of sewing patterns from the 80s (think lots of padded shouldered and headband wearing brides) but a couple of books might have been purchased. We rode the Victorian tramway down to the beach, passing the yarnbombers' somewhat droopy knitted poppy wreath and the ice cream van. The donkeys (members of an award winning team, no less) were coming to the end of their shift and a little dog looked hopeful of his owners dropping a chip or two. Back home, another dog wondered why he'd been left behind.